


possibly, maybe i'm falling for you

by playedwright



Series: spierfeld week 2018 [4]
Category: Love Simon (2018), Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda - Becky Albertalli
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, M/M, Spierfeld Week, thats p much it just soft boys being soft w coffee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-04-25 08:23:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14374773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/playedwright/pseuds/playedwright
Summary: So it starts at 7:15am, when Bram is more than a little stressed out about his final essay for his European Studies class and his coffee is more than a little gross, that this boy stumbles into the coffee shop. He makes a lot of noise as he comes in, stumbling through the glass door and swearing when his backpack gets caught on the door handle. His cheeks are pink with embarrassment, his hood is up but doesn’t do much to hide the mess that is his hair, and his glasses are just a bit crooked on his face. Bram’s fingers freeze mid-sentence as he watches the boy make his way up to the counter to order. His breath feels like it’s caught in his throat.*In which falling in love at a coffee shop is nothing if not cliche, but Bram truly can't complain.





	possibly, maybe i'm falling for you

**Author's Note:**

> **written for spierfeld week, with the day four prompt: college/university.**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> this is only a week late. which is fine. this is fine.
> 
> (also it's barely a college au BUT I TRIED MY BEST THIS STORY HAD A MIND OF IT'S OWN.)

It starts at 7:15am, in a coffee shop, where Bram has been sitting at the same spot with his laptop and his lukewarm coffee for nearly an hour now trying to finish this paper before his 8am class that he’s now regretting signing up for.

 

He only has about ten minutes to finish revising; he’s still got to print the thing, and the printing service is a seven minute walk from the coffee place, and then he still has to get to the building and the classroom on time. He’s pretty sure he’s almost done at least, which he tries to focus on. So he doesn’t go crazy. He wonders if this is a normal thought process for a college student.

 

So it starts at 7:15am, when Bram is more than a little stressed out about his final essay for his European Studies class and his coffee is more than a little gross, that this boy stumbles into the coffee shop. He makes a lot of noise as he comes in, stumbling through the glass door and swearing when his backpack gets caught on the door handle. His cheeks are pink with embarrassment, his hood is up but doesn’t do much to hide the mess that is his hair, and his glasses are just a bit crooked on his face. Bram’s fingers freeze mid-sentence as he watches the boy make his way up to the counter to order. His breath feels like it’s caught in his throat.

 

His order is ready by the time he’s pressing change into the barista’s hand; the one perk about getting coffee this early. Bram watches, oddly enraptured, as the boy takes a sip the second he picks up the cup, and sighs in relief.

 

Then the boy looks around the coffee shop, makes eye contact with Bram, and smiles timidly.

 

He’s wearing a Hufflepuff sweater underneath his hoodie, and his cheeks are still dusted with pink like he’s perpetually embarrassed, and his smile is probably the most vibrant thing Bram has ever seen. To summarize, Bram is pretty certain this means he’s screwed.

 

He doesn’t really finish revising his essay.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Bram gets a decent grade on his final essay. His written test, however, is a whole other story; Bram learns it’s decidedly more difficult to take a test when your brain is preoccupied by a boy with soft hair and kind eyes.

 

 

* * *

 

 

They run into each other at the coffee house again.

 

“Hey,” the boy says softly. Bram glances up at him, startled. The boy’s still blushing, and Bram is struck with the desire to brush his fingertips across his cheekbones. He points to the chair across from Bram. “Can I sit there?”

 

Bram can’t really process this.

 

“It’s just,” the boy continues, and he blushes even  _ harder _ , Bram is  _ screwed _ , “everywhere else is full.”

 

Bram still can’t really find words; he hopes his smile is reassuring as he kicks the chair out a bit and gestures lamely with his hands. The boy looks relieved, collapsing into the chair and putting his coffee down before reaching into his backpack to pull out his laptop.

 

“Thank you, you’re a lifesaver,” he sighs. “Next round of coffee is on me, just let me know when you need a refill.”

 

“That won’t be necessary,” Bram argues. His breath catches in his throat again when the boy gives him a happy, warm smile.

 

“No, seriously, man. I can’t even begin to explain how much you’re saving my life. Any other night, I’d take my coffee back to my dorm and hope it’s enough fuel to help me power-write this essay. But my roommate not-so-subtly asked me to vacate for the night so he could have hetero anniversary sex with his girlfriend and that’s really  _ not  _ something I want to be around for—”

 

The guy stops rambling, eyes wide with mortification. By now, the blush has spread from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. “Fuck,  _ shit _ , I’m sorry, that is not what I wanted to say and definitely not what you wanted to hear, I can move somewhere else—”

 

“No,” Bram says quickly. Bram swallows when the guy looks up at him with hopeful eyes. “Don’t worry about it.”

 

The boy actually sags into his chair, like he’s relieved. “Sorry,” he says again, still kind of embarrassed. “Though I guess I don’t have much to complain about. The Oreo lattes here are probably better than sex.”

 

Bram literally doesn’t even think before the words come tumbling out of his mouth— “Maybe you should stop having heterosexual sex. Just saying.”

 

The fleeting pit of mortification that drops in Bram’s stomach is worth the look of shocked delight that splits this boy’s face. A startled laugh bursts out of him, so hard that his eyes crinkle shut and Bram forgets how to breathe because of how  _ bright  _ his smile is.

 

“Maybe you’re right,” the boy says softly, in between laughs. “I’m Simon, by the way. Simon Spier.”

 

“Bram Greenfeld.”

 

Simon’s next smile is secretive, fond. “It’s nice to meet you, Bram. I get the feeling I made the right choice, sitting with you.”

 

And— _ god _ , Bram agrees.

 

He’s not sure how long they sit by one another, sharing glances occasionally and trading breathless laughs when they get caught. Simon’s work on his essay is slow-going, filled with intermittent pauses and lots of sighing on Simon’s part. Bram has finished his essay, and his coffee, and is halfway through reviewing his notes from his philosophy lecture when he realizes he’s been stuck on the same sentence for at least ten minutes now.

 

Simon keeps brushing his foot against Bram’s.

 

Bram is about one hundred percent certain it’s unintentional, if the way Simon blushes every time he does it is any indicator. Bram gets distracted by the way Simon’s mouth unexpectedly curls at the corner every time he mutters out an apology. If he’s being completely honest, he’s also distracted by the way Simon’s perpetually flushed cheeks make it easier to count his freckles. Everything about Simon is just so… captivating. Bram is struck by the impression that he could spend an eternity by Simon’s side where the only thing they share is timid smiles, and he’d never be bored.

 

Eventually, he decides he’s spent too much time pretending to work and taking sips of an empty coffee cup. While Simon is on a roll with whatever thought he’s trying to write, Bram stands and stretches for a second before hurrying over to the counter and ordering two coffees. It’s busier now, as is typical for an afternoon on a college campus during finals week, but the barista gives him a harried smile as she presses the change into his hands and he feels badly for her so he drops it into the tip jar with a few extra dollars. Then he has his coffees, and he makes his way back to the table he’s sharing with this cute boy still bent intently over his laptop.

 

Bram puts the coffee down in front of Simon, takes his seat, and pulls his notes back up. It takes Simon several minutes to notice.

 

“What is that.”

 

Bram fights off a smile. He’s just glad he isn’t stammering over his words yet. “Coffee?”

 

Simon blinks, like he doesn’t understand. “But—where did it come from?”

 

“I got it for you.” Now, Bram is nervous. His stomach twists uncomfortably as he studies Simon’s face, unable to discern a reaction. Maybe he was too forward, maybe Simon didn’t even want another coffee and was getting ready to leave before Bram went off and made it seem like he was obligated to stay—

 

“Bram,” says Simon softly. Bram’s heart skips a beat. “I told you the next round was on me.”

 

Bram blushes. He wonders if that’s a side effect of Simon’s perpetual embarrassment, or if it’s just a result of the gentleness of a boy who is looking at Bram like he just personally hung the stars. He shrugs, hoping that his action gets his point across since he knows no words will come out if he tries to speak.

 

“But how did you  _ know my order _ ?!” Simon gasps, after he takes a sip and his eyes go wide and delighted.

 

“It was on your old cup,” Bram explains. He feels strangely jittery in a way he can’t attest to the coffee; he wonders if Simon is weirded out by Bram’s observance. Years of introverted behavior and shyness have amounted to an attention to detail that Bram hasn’t been able to shake even as he’s grown out of his awkwardness.

 

But Simon is grinning at Bram like nothing else in the world even matters, and Bram decides that maybe all those years of introverted behavior existed to lead him right here, to this very moment.

 

“This is probably the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Simon says. His eyes are bright, and his smile is vibrant, and he looks so obviously  _ sincere _ ; and Bram honestly has to agree with Simon on this.

 

“It’s just coffee,” Bram laughs, breathless.

 

Simon brushes his hand against Bram’s, just for a second. “Coffee that was bought for me by this cute boy I’ve been staring at for probably forever.”

 

“Forever?”

 

Simon’s cheeks go pink again. Bram wonders, fleetingly, if Simon would blush like this on their first date—or on their second, or fifth, or tenth, or one-hundredth. He wonders what it would take before Simon was so familiar with Bram that he wouldn’t blush so often. Then, he wonders, what ways he could think of to make sure that Simon never stops blushing like that.

 

“Yeah… I’ve kind of, seen you around here before?” Simon admits. His fingers curl around his coffee cup, and he doesn’t quite meet Bram’s gaze. Bram is seriously gone on this boy. “But most of the time, you’ve been focused on a book or homework, and you always seemed, like— _ way _ out of my league, especially since you always looked so put together and smart and cute.”

 

Warmth spreads through Bram’s veins. “You think I’m cute?”

 

Simon looks him straight in the eye. “I’ve been calling you Cute Coffee House Boy in my head since, like, midterms.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Simon gives him a timid smile.

 

“Would you like to go out sometime?” Bram blurts out. “Some place that isn’t coffee? Or it can be coffee, I don’t mind.”

 

Simon presses his hand against Bram’s again. This time, when he smiles, there’s nothing timid about it. It’s wide and unfiltered, Bram’s favorite Simon smile so far, and Simon may still be blushing but it somehow makes him more beautiful.

 

“Depends on where you take a guy for a second date,” Simon says slyly.

 

“Second? What was the first?”

 

Simon twines their fingers together. “You bought me coffee.”

 

And Bram smiles.

 

“That I did.”

  
  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  


 

 

Later, he learns, there’s a lot of different ways to make Simon blush. Compliments, deliberate touches, sly glances. And his personal favorite—

 

“I’d like to kiss you now,” he whispers. His hand is on Simon’s cheek, holding him close and Simon’s skin is flushed in a way that probably has less to do with embarrassment.

 

“You’d better,” Simon says.

 

And Bram does.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me [here](https://tonytangredis.tumblr.com/).
> 
> comment, kudos, bookmark below!


End file.
